


bitter taste

by allusive



Series: pokeglobal 3 [7]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: ? - Freeform, Abuse, Child Abuse, Death, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fear, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mentions of Stalking, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Stalking, Violence, but you can read it if you want, fucked up thinking, hun is trans, tainted food, this is a fic i wrote for pokeglobal so nobody will ever really have full context, toxic family, unnamed character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:13:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allusive/pseuds/allusive
Summary: But what is “all of it”, really? When would it have been enough? Would it have mattered, in the end, if they’d told him all of their past?
Relationships: Bashou | Hun/Attila | Buson, Bashou | Hun/Buson | Atilla, haikushipping
Series: pokeglobal 3 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1852948
Kudos: 3





	bitter taste

With a sickening splattering noise, they remove the sword from the body underneath them, and the blood coating the metal of the katana gripped in their hands reflects the moonlight for only a moment. With a quick motion of their arms, the blood throws itself to the ground with the force of the swing, leaving the sharp edge clean before it’s hidden away once more within its sheath, placed at Hun’s waist where it remains for the remainder of the night. They throw their pokeballs out to handle cleanup, the pokemon immediately getting to work without even a single verbal command. 

The crunching of bones and the slicing of flesh by their hands, the taste of iron, the slight tang of sweetness mixed in with bitterness as they lick their lips lazily of the blood dripping past their mouth - despite being things they were intimately familiar with, these were sensations that they would never grow tired of. Hun breathes for the first time since the kill, the expression on their victims face is etched into their mind as they close their eyes and reimagine it all. The slight whimper leaving their throat as the katana slices through their chest (the sharpness allowing the blade to slice through both clothing and soft flesh), the gasping and thick waves of fear emanating from them as they bleed and realize that they’re going to die - it’s  _ delicious.  _ Hun shivers (their expression barely changing, however), and wraps their now free hands around their own waist, gripping with an excessive force in an attempt to calm themself. Their pokemon, finished up the job, return to their pokeballs, leaving naught but a few piles of stray ashes which quickly scatter in the wind.

Returning to their hotel room, they immediately shed their clothes, discarding them on the floor haphazardly and throwing themself on the bed, hands moving between spread legs to satisfy themself. They remember when Attila would touch them in this way, seemingly satisfied just watching them squirm from the foreign sensation (at the time) rather than prioritize his own pleasure. Hun had never met anyone else after him that did such a thing. It made no sense to them (humans are selfish creatures, after all) - and as they continue thinking about it, they suddenly grimace, mood suddenly ruined by stray thoughts. With an exasperated sigh they stop, sitting up and walking to the washroom to wash their hands. As the water runs they splash their face, then look up at the mirror as the droplets slide down their cheeks, pulled by gravity. Water pools at the end of their eyelashes and drip down like droplets of rain, and they pull a towel from the rack to wipe their face before discarding it on the floor, only looking away from their own reflection for mere moments to do so.

They don’t particularly dislike seeing their own face, but they don’t  _ like  _ it, either. They don’t see the appeal - perhaps it’s because they have a thin face with sharp eyes - their mother had always hated the sharpness of their eyes, chiding them for something they could not control.  _ Your eyes should be softer, such a sharp gaze isn’t befitting of a [ ],  _ She’d say, pulling the corners of their eyes down for hours at a time in an attempt to get it to stay that way - but it obviously never worked. It’s not as if she was still around to chide them now, anyways. It’s a bitter memory that they’d rather not remember, and it’s already distasteful that they’d remembered Attila just minutes ago. He’d made a few attempts to understand them when they’d been together, they think - but he’d never learned all of it before he’d left, muttering under his breath about how selfish they were.

But what is “all of it”, really? When would it have been enough? Would it have mattered, in the end, if they’d told him all of their past? Attila would never be able to understand, nor would it have changed the fact that he was gone now. It’s not as if Attila had told  _ them _ of his past either - their relationship had been one born of mutual convenience. As they’re trying to erase thoughts of Attila from their mind, they suddenly remember another thorn in their side - Ryuki. The red leather-clad man was like a sickness, unwanted, inconvenient and  _ persistent _ . Always going on about being a “star”, wanting to be known - it  _ disgusted _ them.  _ Wanting  _ to be famous? It was a complete joke, an absolute  _ farce _ . With fame came nothing but negativity, every action you took scrutinized and analyzed, thousands and millions of eyes upon you at every moment waiting for you to make a single mistake, lecherous and unforgiving (and although it had been about a decade or more since they’d been in the spotlight, the effects of such still lingered). They shiver as they remember, a light prickle on their skin as they instinctively glance behind them to make sure nobody is watching. 

They turn back towards the mirror for a moment, making eye contact with their reflection for a few moments more before they scoff, turning back around to walk back towards the bed. Picking up their discarded clothes from the floor on the way, they toss the garments onto a nearby chair before lying down once again, this time with the intent to sleep instead of anything else. But despite their intentions, they begin to think about what led them here, to this very moment in the first place.

It was at their mother's behest that they auditioned to become an “idol” themself, when they were younger. After being a somewhat successful model for clothing at a young age, they’d been forced to audition for more and more jobs. They were somewhat good at singing, as an idol they weren’t especially mainstream - but gaining popularity online, they suddenly found themself with a cult-like following of support. While many would dream of being known, Hun hated it all— the frilly dresses, the makeup, the upbeat pop songs with complicated choreography— the hatred only piled on after they'd learned the fact that some of their fans were disgustingly dedicated to them. The mindless dedication wasn’t all bad at the beginning— they appreciated those that supported them, but fans became more and more extreme, doing such things as leaking their address and schedules, sending them things like heart shaped chocolates with bits of hair inside, letters with inappropriate contents, snapping photos through the blinds when Hun was inside - it was not uncommon for them to discover photos they were unaware were being taken going for hundreds of dollars online. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad had it only been strangers that they were to worry about, but the people unnamed were actually the least stressful aspect of their childhood. The only reason they would dedicate themself to showbiz in the first place was because of their parents' expectations, which were simple in theory, but difficult to achieve in practice - Hun learned from an early age that they only wanted perfect children. Those who wanted affection and love would only be acknowledged if they were high achievers, because they were given a second chance at life, and should be grateful for being adopted by such a prominent family - of course it was only natural that they should make their parents proud to show gratefulness. Being one of many siblings all adopted from various orphanages from many different regions, it was difficult to outshine each other due to the sheer amount of effort they’d have to put in to excel - yet they did it anyways, desperate for validation and yearning for someone to look at them - much to the chagrin of their siblings, who would whisper in the halls of the mansion behind them as if they couldn’t hear the hushed voices of those looking down upon them despite being the one above the rest.

But it didn’t matter how much they talked down about Hun, for their punishment came in the form of exile - when their parents felt that a child’s achievements weren’t good enough, they were sent off. The fifth day of each month was known as “judgement day” (nicknamed by the rest of the children), and they would each show their achievements for the month, pitted against each other in a bloodless battle of the minds in which at least one of them would be removed from the home, sent off to Arceus knows where - Hun would never find out, and as the faces of every sibling they knew changed and were swapped off with new ones every few months they found it pointless to become close to any of them. What was the point, after all, if any attempt to get to know them would be destroyed when they would end up despising them, for simply being better - when they were inevitably shipped off, back to an orphanage, or to another family, to another place, most likely even more difficult? For all they knew, those who’d been removed were as good as dead.

So, was it worth it, practicing the violin until their arms ached, playing the piano until their fingers bled, learning 3 different languages at a time, practicing Iaido, desperately doing extra credit despite already having top grades? Most likely not - but there was nothing else to do. It was a cruel sort of joke that their achievements were only considered the bare minimum to stay afloat in their “family”, but it was not only worries over their academic life that contributed to stress. Not only were their minds to be perfect, every aspect of them had to be - body as well. With every meal came another challenge - more often than not there were different sorts of things mixed in. While the intention was to promote healthiness by mixing in diet pills and different medications, the combination of such would often churn Hun’s stomach, and it was difficult to keep anything down. With time, it became easier, but for the most part they spent their days struggling to study while sick to their stomach. Without a full night's worth of sleep, between food that made them sick and the extremely high expectations, it was suffice to say that things were  _ difficult -  _ but it was the only normal that they knew. To be perfectly obedient was to show their love and gratefulness for their parents, after all. Despite their achievements, however, the only comfort and the closest thing to affection they’d ever received was from a stray vulpix that would often visit the yard as Hun practiced violin. Hun would often feed it, feeling sorry for a stray with no family - the Pokemon would eventually become their pet (the only secret they would keep from their parents, until they were found out - but they were allowed to keep it, as it complimented their cutesy idol persona, and thus, could be used as a prop - but the sheer amount of fear they’d felt when the pokemon was discovered stayed in the back of their mind for years) and would continue to stay with them for the times to come.

As the “favourite” child of the family, one would think that one or two mistakes would go unnoticed or ignored for their efforts - but it was the opposite, regardless of what the rumors their siblings would conjure to make themselves feel better. Everything they did was especially scrutinized - everything they ate, the hours they slept - they were constantly watched, whether it be by their family or by others. Things came to a head when Hun expressed that they no longer wanted to be an idol, to live in this way, paranoid of those watching, scared of people’s eyes on their each and every move, waiting for them to make a mistake. It was an irony that they’d only realized it so late, having lived in a similar, even parallel situation for their entire life up to this point - the perpetrators being their own parents, instead of strangers. Threatened with being thrown out onto the streets with nothing with no understanding of how the world worked other than what they had been told, it would have been foolish to risk changing something that they were familiar with to attempt to gain something that wasn’t guaranteed - but of course, no person can suffer in silence for their entire life, and at the age of 17, they formally resigned from their job as an idol (they did not tell their parents, and were disowned as a result), throwing their name to the trash along with their old life. It was not an ideal name, having originated from the name that their _beloved_ parents had given them, but what they were called didn’t really matter to them at all, as long as they were given that taste of freedom.

They’d been recruited into Team Rocket by chance. A job advertisement they’d seen while wandering lost in Mahogany town led them to Rocket’s (not so secret) headquarters, where they’d started as a grunt - stealing other’s pokemon wasn’t something they really had any problem with - the weak do not survive, after all. Team rocket members are paired off soon after joining, and as usual, they were also paired off - with a man named Attila. Both of them were assigned to the profit expansion division of Team Rocket - Hun had never asked his reason for joining Rocket, nor did Attila ask theirs - they worked together well despite barely knowing each other, Attila strangely obedient to Hun’s orders and plans. They figured that perhaps he was just trying to get along with them, but as they’d gone on more assignments and missions together, Hun found that they quite liked Attila’s obedience - when they expressed confusion to him, his only response was that Hun was smarter than he was, and that he didn’t mind following orders as long as it got the job done. It brought a certain kind of feeling to them, knowing that Attila would follow each of their commands like a Pokemon would, a parallel of how they used to be in the past - even so, they would never understand some of his actions (when he would lean his head against theirs while they slept, when he would place his hand on their waist idly) until much later - not until they would separate, ending their relationship both as partners and as friends. 

Despite what seemed to be Attila showing loyalty towards them, Hun was not so stupid to blindly trust Attila in the same way - people are selfish, and rarely does anyone tell the truth, put others above themself - the world is ugly, people are used as tools constantly, inevitably; the only time when one’s true intentions and feelings arise is in the moments before death, when there is no point in pretending anymore. People are not born equal, but become equal in the moments before their life is snuffed out. For the first time in their life they feel powerful, in control of things - every person they’ve met up to this point has all been the same - every person has always faked a portion of themselves, in order to gain something - but the struggle of every person Hun has ever killed since joining Rocket is the same - they have the same look in their eyes of fear, palpable as they attempt to cry out. It’s the most honest that anyone has ever been with them, and thus - they come to enjoy it. Attila is seemingly just as cruel to those that oppose them, the both of them in wordless agreement that it was just the most efficient way to do things.

Hun has never trusted anybody, but they find some solace in Attila’s ministrations after missions - despite how he looks, he’s much more thoughtful and caring than they had first expected him to be. Passing conversations in the car as they drive to and from their assignments, rotating sleeping shifts (they would sometimes catch Attila staring - they did not understand why), sharing small vulnerabilities with him (of course, only bits and pieces; they would never burden him with the knowledge of why they were so paranoid about being watched, or why they didn’t want to  _ be  _ vulnerable in the first place) - they begin to wonder if this was what ‘trusting’ somebody was like.

But the halcyon days do not last forever, and the time comes where Attila makes a mistake on an important mission. Having him pay for his mistake - that was what the admins of Rocket decided. That’s what made the most sense - to Hun, it was only natural. If you made a mistake, you would be punished for it. That’s how things were, how things have always been - yet they felt a sense of responsibility. Despite having nothing to do with the mistake that Attila had made, even if they had been the one to clean it up - upon hearing that Attila would be punished with becoming reassigned to a special sector of Rocket that Kanzaki was overlooking, there was an extreme sense of unease within them, a feeling of nervousness that they’d never felt before in their life. Everything up to this point had been like it was scripted - they had never felt much emotion other than a lukewarm neutral for most of their life (save for the few moments where they’d found joy in mercilessly crushing those who’d opposed them) - there was no reason to ever feel anything other. 

So it was against all logic and everything they’d known when they’d looked Kanzaki in the eyes and said that they would take the reassignment and experimental brain surgery in his place without any hesitation in their voice. Whether Attila knew of this didn’t matter to them, as long as he would be spared from whatever Rocket would do. They’d felt a peaceful satisfaction knowing that he would be safe, but yet, even that satisfaction was short lived. A passing conversation between grunts in the hallways would alert them to Attila's planned departure from Rocket. Their first reaction was confusion - but it was made clear to them  _ why _ he would do such a thing once they’d asked - Attila was somehow led to believe that Hun’s new position in Rocket was a promotion or sort - quite the opposite of what it actually had been. 

So, despite the aching pain that they constantly feel in their head that barely lets them walk without struggle anymore, they head over to Attila, for the last time. 

“I don’t have a reason to stay anymore.”  _ What about me? _

“Did you even care about us?”  _ Yes. _

“You’re always so cold and calculating. You never thought of me at all.”  _ That’s not true. _

“See, you don’t even care.”  _ I do. _

_ Wait, _ they’d wanted to say. 

_ Come back. _ As he turns away, they open their mouth, as if to speak. 

_ Stay with me.  _ They know the words to say, but nothing comes out. 

_ I love you. _ The words are caught in their throat.

_ Don’t leave me. _

“Why don’t you try listening more to the next sorry sap that falls for you?”

Ah. That’s right. He was right. How could they have forgotten something so important?

Things like “love” are earned. They hadn’t done enough to have Attila love them. They hadn’t listened to him enough. It made sense to them - love has  _ always  _ been earned through obedience. It’s been excruciatingly obvious to them their entire life, from the second they were born to how things were now. It would only make sense that they were left behind if they were being disobedient, if they weren’t doing a good enough job - who would stay around someone so useless? Who would want someone around that never listened to them? 

.

.

.

.

So instead of speaking in response, they let Attila walk away without saying a single word. They did not deserve to say anything, after disappointing him. The reason he’d been so obedient towards them thus far.. It only made sense that he was showing his love towards them, and they hadn’t seen it - too devoted to their newfound freedom to realize. The ache of both head and heart would plague them for months after - any happiness that they had felt in the past few years was now replaced with only a yearning for return to those happy times (something that they themself did not think they deserved, but they still could not help but want).

Despite everything that’s happened, there was still a certain feeling to seeing people writhe under them - knowing that they have absolute control over somebody’s life in that singular moment before they dig their blade into the body is the only solace that they find in every assignment. Their responsibility is to hunt down defectors from Rocket, those who would hold too much information to live, those who would betray - but for most of the time, they are treated as a personal hitman. They receive requests from Rocket admins, some from the boss - it does not matter to them from where the requests come, as long as they’re able to continue.

Their intention when joining the chat is to keep an eye on Hilda - it’s a tip from Kanzaki, who is positioned in Rocket higher than they are. It’s only natural that they investigate despite not meshing very well with him in personality, and even if they had been somewhat familiar with Hilda, there’s no point in continuing their friendship when she is planning for more than her duties ask for. So when they meet the Toren in the chat, they do not care much at first - he is just another face in the crowd for them, a plain man wrecked by anxiety and troubles. But as they continue to speak with him to pass the time, they find themselves checking their phone on habit for any new messages, with a new vested interest in him.

Then, it happens.

_ [Cant stop now. I need proof to be considered as a rightful heir tothe hthrone] _

Intrigued, they type.

_ [The throne?] _

And they receive a reply.

_ [Yes _

_ He mgihtve failed but I wont thats what he tells me. Imd estined for greatness I can lead and my convinctions wont falter]  _

And another.

_ [Im perfect after all] _

And another.

_ [No one important _

_ Note even someone really. Jst an obstacle to overcome] _

_ [Of course he can try to interefere all he wants but I wont let anyone get in my way] _

_ [Of course theere would be. Ever ygreat ruler has adversaries necessary to dispose of to rise to power] _

_ [ITd oesnt mater it deosnt matter woyull never find anyone more worthy thann em I know for sure now nad everyone wlese will know too] _

The feeling of excitement that they feel when reading his messages while he’s in this state is not unlike the feeling they get during a hunt - similar to the shiver they get as they look deep into someone’s eyes as they struggle.  _ This _ is Toren’s real self - his honest and true feelings, and he is more beautiful than anything else they have ever seen _. _ His confidence and cruelness juxtaposed with his usual timid and anxious exterior is similar to a geode - and it’s an easy decision, as soon as the thought crosses their mind. Toren would be far more interesting to follow than anyone else would ever be, and so as they’re hunting Hilda, they figure that it wouldn’t hurt to indulge themself just a little bit - and indulge themself they will.


End file.
